


Wolves in Winter

by ideserveyou



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Angst, Grief, Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/ideserveyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur broods over his failure to seal a treaty with the Saxons. Then the wolves come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolves in Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Starts at the end of the canon episode 'The Treaty' and assumes that the following episode 'The Girl from Rome' never happened.
> 
> Once again thanks to the awesome trepkos for beta, and for administering a hefty boot to the backside when I wimped out of writing the most important bit. There are times when a fade-to-black just isn't enough...

‘… _once we met, and talked of peace. I pray we will again_.’

 

The pain in Arthur’s voice tears at Kai’s heart. Kai reaches out, but before he can wrap his arm around his leader’s shoulders and draw him into the warmth of the Longhouse, Arthur has pulled away and gone striding down to the gate.

He speaks a sharp word to the sentry as he goes out, and is swallowed up by the winter darkness.

Kai heaves in a breath and moves to go after him, but Llud stands in the way. ‘Best leave him a while,’ he says. ‘He has much to think about. Give him time. He’ll come in when he’s ready.’

 

After the heated babble and chatter of Yorath’s feasting hall, and then the long ride home through a night and a day, it is a relief to sit quiet and at ease by their own hearthside again.

Llud has retrieved Cerdig’s gift from the outside wall of the house and is turning the finely wrought blade over and over in his hands, as Kai knows he is turning the events of the past few days in his mind: searching for flaws; for some way in which things might have been done differently.

Finally he lays the dagger aside on the bench, and sighs.  ‘Peace with the Saxons,’ he says. ‘I won’t live to see it.’

‘But you believe it will happen,’ Kai replies.

‘Oh, yes. It must, or the Celts will perish. And you know Arthur. He’ll never stop trying. His people are his life, his reason for existence.’

 _As he is mine_ , Kai thinks, though he merely murmurs in assent.

‘I have faith in him,’ Llud says. ‘As do we all. If something needs to be done to protect us, you can be sure Arthur will find a way to do it. Whatever it might cost him.’

 

 _The price this time was too high_ …

Abruptly Kai pushes back his chair and picks up his cloak. ‘He’s been freezing out there for long enough,’ he says. ‘I’m going to find him.’

‘He won’t thank you,’ Llud says. Then his face warms into a smile as he adds thoughtfully: ‘Not that it’s ever stopped you before …’

‘Never has, never will.’ Kai grins back, despite his anxiety.

Llud raises an eyebrow. ‘Just don’t blame me when he punches you on the nose for your trouble.’

Kai is still chuckling as he heads for the door.

 

 

The chill outside is enough to sober him almost at once. He pulls his cloak more tightly round him as he crosses the yard.

The gates are closed for the night, but the sentry has not yet barred them. Kai slips through and hears the creak and thud as they shut behind him.

 

Without having to think about it, he heads to his left, towards the river where the trees grow thick and tall. He pushes in among the willows and alders.

There is a glow of moonlight through the grey clouds overhead, and a thin wind sighs in the leafless branches.

As Kai goes further into the wood, stepping cautiously among the brambles and fallen trunks, he becomes aware of another sound, part-muffled by the ripple of the stream – the small, choked noises of someone in distress.

And there is Arthur, standing on the bank and watching the river, holding himself rigidly upright although his shoulders are heaving.

 

A twig breaks under Kai’s foot, with a sharp crack.

 

Arthur whips round, his hand going instinctively to his sword-hilt; then he sees who is there, and lets go of his weapon. Without saying a word, he turns his back and stands still, waiting.

Kai walks slowly to Arthur’s side and puts a hand on his back, rubbing gently between his shoulder blades, as is his custom whenever Arthur is tired or stiff from a long ride or a hard fight; then steps behind him and begins to knead his neck and shoulders, firmly, carefully, offering ease and warmth to the tight muscles and sinews.

Arthur is silent now, and beginning to relax under Kai’s hands, letting himself be comforted. Still he says nothing, and Kai does not ask him to, but simply draws closer, rests his cheek against Arthur’s hair and continues his ministrations.

 

Arthur heaves a great sigh, and his body sags against his brother’s.

Kai puts both arms around him and holds him; finally Arthur turns to face him, buries his head in Kai’s shoulder, and clings to him as though he will never let him go.

‘I’m so tired…’ he murmurs.

‘It’s been a long day,’ Kai says. ‘For all of us, and for you especially. The hardest part of the work fell to you.’

‘And it was all for nothing,’ Arthur says bitterly. ‘I had such hopes of this. So much depended on it. And in the end we failed.’

‘We tried our best.’ Kai is trying to be encouraging, but he feels his leader’s disappointment. ‘We came close, too.’

Arthur snorts. ‘Not close enough. If only I’d thought sooner about the men waiting outside. I should have known there’d be trouble.’

‘None of us thought,’ Kai says. ‘You can’t blame yourself.’

Arthur’s response is sharp. ‘I can, and I do. I am responsible for my people – all of my people – and I laid aside that responsibility and feasted and drank and congratulated myself, and look where it’s got me. Innocent men dead, and Cerdig still a threat to us.’

‘There will be another time,’ Kai tells him. ‘I believe in you. So does Llud. So do we all.’

‘I’m not sure that I do any more.’ Arthur heaves an exhausted sigh.

Kai turns him around, one arm still supporting him. ‘You’re too tired to be sure of anything. Come on. Time to go home.’

 

He leads Arthur back through the wood, and Arthur comes with him unresisting. As they go, he says quietly, ‘I’m glad I’ve got you, Kai.’

‘You’ll always have me,’ Kai tells him.

 

…

 

Once back at the longhouse, Arthur lets Kai help him out of his clothes and into bed. He lays his dark head wearily on the pillow. ‘Goodnight, Kai,’ he murmurs.

‘I won’t be a minute,’ Kai says, unbuckling his belt. ‘Then I’m coming to join you.’

But Arthur shakes his head.  ‘Not tonight,’ he says. ‘I – I would prefer to be alone. I need to sleep.’ And he closes his eyes.

Biting back his frustration, Kai leans over and kisses Arthur chastely on the forehead.

‘Sleep well, then,’ he says. Then he strides swiftly to the other side of the room before he can be tempted to say any more.

 

Arthur cannot be blamed for being tired.

It’s been a long day. That is all it is…

 

Kai lies on his back in his own bed, blind weary, but sleep will not come to him. He runs over and over the previous day’s events, wondering whether he could have done anything to affect the outcome. He longs to cross the bedroom and burrow under the blankets beside Arthur, to let Arthur’s warmth and the rhythm of his breathing chase the shadows away; but he knows that tonight Arthur has nothing left for him.

 

He will have to be content to wait.

 

…

 

For the next few days, Arthur broods over his lost treaty, and is distant with everyone, including Llud and Kai; but Kai is not too troubled. Arthur will work things out in his own mind, and all will be well again.

 

The first snows fall, and the edges of the river are rimmed with ice.

 

Then the wolves come.

 

At first they are no more than a nebulous presence. There are distant howls; footprints in the snow; the odd deer carcass in the woods. But as the cold deepens they become bolder. First they take one goat, then two, then six in one night, in a wanton orgy of slaying. In the pens right next to the village.

 

Several families will be hungry next year.

 

Arthur rouses himself and decrees that this must be stopped. Kai is pleased. It always helps Arthur to have something practical to do.

The villagers organize themselves into tracking parties. They go out hunting for the wolves – sometimes making a kill, sometimes not.

 

The weather takes a turn for the worse: when the wind blows, there are blizzards, and when the wind and snow cease, there is thick freezing fog. Hunting becomes impossible.

 

But the wolves do not stop coming.

 

One morning the widowed Aislinn comes to the longhouse in tears: all of her goats are dead.

Her son Meirion, a lad of eleven or twelve summers with his father’s copper hair and keen blue eyes, stands unsmiling at his mother’s elbow. ‘They must be stopped,’ he says.

The hound at his heel growls and bristles, hearing the anger in the boy’s voice.

‘They will be,’ Arthur says. ‘As soon as the weather improves. For now, it’s too risky to go after them. We can’t afford to lose our warriors as well as our animals.’

Meirion glowers, unappeased.

Arthur looks him straight in the eye, as man to man. ‘We must be practical,’ he says. ‘I am sorry for your loss. We will see to it that you and your mother do not go hungry. But there will be no more wolf hunts until this weather lifts. Be patient. Even the worst winter cannot last for ever.’

Aislinn whispers her thanks, but Meirion is still frowning, and as he turns to follow his mother back to their hut, he mutters something about ‘cowards.’

Kai takes a swift step after the boy, meaning to reprimand him, but Arthur lays a hand on his arm. ‘Let him be,’ he says. ‘He didn’t mean it. He’s just a child. He lost his father to the Saxons in the summer, and now he sees his mother suffering. We cannot blame him for being angry.’

 

Two nights later the wolves are back, and more goats are taken.

 

Still the snow falls and the wind howls.

The yard is treacherous with trampled ice, but they must all cross it to fetch wood or water or stores, and Lenni is kept busy tending bruises and sprains, and even broken bones where people have fallen.

To his shame, Kai is among her patients. One careless moment, turning round to look with longing at Arthur standing in the doorway, and then he was lying in a heap in the snow, fiery pain shooting through his left ankle, which is now so swollen he can barely put his weight on it, although he has had his foot up on the bench all afternoon, packed around with yet more ice.

He curses himself for his clumsiness.

 

All day the relentless blizzard keeps the villagers in their huts, or huddled around the longhouse fire, drinking mead and gambling to pass the time.

 

Late in the afternoon the wind finally drops; Arthur goes eagerly to the door and looks out. ‘The sky’s clearing,’ he says. ‘Tomorrow, we go on a wolf hunt.’

The bored men around the hearth raise their cups to this, and there is much cheering and laughter; the minstrel strikes up a rousing hunting song.

Arthur rejoins the gathering, and pushes in next to Kai on the bench, smiling and leaning against him with an ease and friendliness that makes a sudden wild hope flare in Kai’s heart.

Kai is drawing breath to speak, when the door opens again, and Aislinn hurries in, breathless and flushed with cold and anxiety, and calls out, ‘Have you seen my boy?’

 

The music and laughter stop abruptly.

‘How long …?’ Arthur asks.

‘Two hours, maybe three,’ she says, her voice tremulous. ‘I went to see to the chickens, and when I came back he was gone. I’ve been asking all round the village but nobody has seen him. So I went back and looked again at home.’ She sobs. ‘His dagger and cloak, and two of his father’s spears are gone, and the dog too.’

 

Arthur is on his feet at once, giving orders. He will take Llud and a picked party of the most skilled hunters; they will track on foot since it is too dangerous to ride in the freezing dark.

Preparations are soon under way: men wrapping up in cloaks and furs; calling for their dogs; collecting weapons and plenty of torches.

 

Kai sits abandoned on the bench by the fire, frustrated that he can be of no use; then Arthur comes in from the yard, and sees him there, and smiles.

‘I need your help,’ he says, and holds out his right hand. ‘My fingers are freezing. I can’t get this cuff buckled.’

‘You fumble with it even when your hands are warm,’ Kai says. ‘Here…’

And he takes Arthur’s hand in both of his own, and brings it to his lips, and plants a kiss on the soft skin on the inside of Arthur’s wrist, as he always does when Arthur asks him for this small service.

Arthur smiles: a rare and gentle smile that Kai has not seen for many days. There is hope in Kai’s heart again as he buckles the leather cuff securely around Arthur’s sleeve; but all he says is, ‘Be careful.’

‘I will,’ Arthur says. And it seems that he is going to say more, but someone calls from outside, and he furls his big skin cloak around him and turns to go.

Kai walks with him to the doorway.

 

The snow has stopped, the sky is clear and the moon is up. Arthur picks up a torch and signals Llud to take the lead; and off they go, out of the gate and into the gloom of the forest.

Kai curses himself again, and goes back into the longhouse to wait.

 

…

 

It is nearly dawn when they return.

 

A lookout cries from the gate.

Kai throws on some furs and hobbles out to stand on the longhouse step.

Flickering torches come up through the silent village. The party is oddly quiet; even the dogs are subdued. Two men at the back carry a bundle slung from a pole: a wolf pelt. Kai can see the tail dangling.

Then a torch flares and illuminates Arthur at the centre of the group; he also carries a burden.

 

Kai’s heart turns to ice within him. Arthur’s face is set and pale and wrung with grief and exhaustion. And the bundle in his arms is as limp as the wolfskin.

They pass close by, but Arthur does not raise his eyes, and Kai’s greeting dies on his lips.

 

The hunters disperse to their own houses: all but a few, who accompany Arthur and Llud towards Aislinn’s hut. They vanish from sight. A few moments later, Kai hears Aislinn’s scream of anguish, and then the other women start to wail.

Kai stands on the threshold, waiting.

 

His teeth are chattering with cold and his sprained ankle is trembling under him by the time Arthur reappears, alone, walking slowly across the yard in the grey morning light, his head bowed.

He passes by Kai as though he does not see him; Kai follows him through the hall and into the sleeping place.

 

Arthur is standing irresolute and shivering.

Kai leads him to his bed, where he sinks down and sits staring at nothing.

Kai lights more torches, and swallows hard. ‘Arthur – what happened?’

There is no reply. But Arthur’s clothes are drenched in blood: stiff and dark and sticky with it. His face and hands are spattered and smeared, as though there was a terrible struggle; and he seems to be in too much pain to speak.

 

Kai limps to the fire in the hall; there is still some warm water in the cauldron at the edge of the embers. Not much, but it will serve. He fills a pitcher, finds a bowl, makes his way slowly back to the bedroom to do what he can for Arthur, until Llud returns.

 

Arthur is unable even to undress himself; Kai has to help him. He unfastens Arthur’s cloak and sets it aside; then unbuckles Arthur’s cuffs.

In stark contrast to the blood on Arthur’s hands and sleeves, the skin under the leather is clean and pale.

Meaning to comfort him, Kai plants a kiss on Arthur’s right wrist; but Arthur flinches away and shakes his head vehemently; raises his hand as though to strike, then lets it fall into his lap.

The message is clear. Arthur doesn’t want comfort – cannot be comforted; the warmth he showed on his departure is gone. He has returned chilled to the heart, and bitter, and there are no more smiles.

With a breaking heart, Kai takes the tunic off him, trying to keep the sodden cloth away from Arthur’s face.

He is not hurt; the blood is not his own. Kai helps him get the worst of it off and then puts him to bed, but still Arthur is restless and shivering.

Kai piles the skins from his own bed on top of Arthur’s, and adds Llud’s big woollen blanket for good measure.

 

Then he sits down beside the bed. Once again, all he can do is wait.

 

Arthur sinks into an uneasy sleep, but it lasts only for an hour or two. When he wakens, he insists on getting up and going out to see to what must be done in the village: adding more thorny branches to the fence that protects their remaining livestock; cutting wood; feeding the horses; going to talk with Aislinn … It seems he will never be still again.

 

It is after dark when Arthur finally comes back to the hall and sinks into his big chair.

Kai offers him food, but Arthur shakes his head. ‘I’m not hungry.’ He is staring at his hands. ‘I can’t get them clean,’ he says, half under his breath.

Kai washed between his fingers, but there is still dark blood crusted under his nails.

 

‘Let me help,’ Kai offers.

He remembers that right at the bottom of the clothes chest is a bone hairpin left behind by some girl or other; he fetches the jar of comfrey salve along with it. He sits down on the bench beside Arthur, takes Arthur’s hand and starts to clean his nails for him, but after only a moment or two, Arthur pulls away and snatches the things.

‘I’d rather do it myself,’ he says.

Kai blinks back tears, but he stays in his seat, and as Arthur concentrates on removing every last stain from his hands, he at last begins to talk about the events of the night before.

Kai sits very still, and listens. At least Arthur is permitting him to do that, he thinks bitterly.

 

It is not a long tale, and Arthur cannot bear to tell more than the bare bones of it, but Kai can picture it in chilling detail: the faint tracks in the snow, the scream in the distance, the frantic effort to hurry, the trampled clearing, the blood …

 

And the faithful hound with his throat torn out, and the boy mauled and mangled by the wolves, dying in Arthur’s arms.

‘He called for his mother,’ Arthur says. ‘I told him she was coming ...’

Abruptly he pushes back his chair and goes into the sleeping place.

 

Kai does not follow him.

 

…

 

Next day they hold a funeral for the boy. The whole village helps to build the pyre; going through the ritual in hope of comfort. But it resolves nothing, and comforts nobody.

Everyone but Arthur weeps, as the small sorry corpse burns, wrapped in its wolfskin.

 

They roast two deer from the store for the wake; the minstrel sings sad songs, and Kai gets rapidly and incapably drunk and spends most of the night alternately crying into his mattress and retching into the slop bucket.

 

The following morning his head is splitting, and his heart too. That young life was not the only thing torn to pieces by the wolves.

 

Arthur broods over this latest failure, worse than he did over the treaty with the Saxons.

Kai suffers with him, in silence.

 

As the weather improves, the hunters go out again after the wolves; there will be plenty of fur to sell at the market in spring.

 

‘At least we will be able to buy more animals,’ Arthur says.

But his voice lacks its usual edge; and although he often accompanies the hunting parties, he leaves it to others to decide when and where they should go.

 

There comes a day when he seems unable to rouse himself at first light, and the hunters set off without him. After that, there are many mornings when he lies abed until late, wrapped in his blankets and with his back turned to the world.

He snaps angrily whenever Kai asks him what is wrong.

After a while, Kai stops asking.

Arthur is still blaming himself.

The wolves are still active despite the hunters’ efforts.

 

And Kai is still banished from Arthur’s bed.

 

He is angry at first; then he begins to understand. Arthur is denying himself as a sort of penance; he doesn’t feel it right that he should take pleasure in anything.

Kai tries to be patient, but his frustration grows and grows until it seems that it will strangle him. And there is no woman in the village that can satisfy him, although several of them try.

He worries about Arthur. Sometimes, their leader seems unable or unwilling to make even the most trivial decision without consulting half the village; on other days, he will lay down the law arbitrarily, and lash out in fury at anyone who dares question him.

 

Kai starts to overhear the men talking. At first it is nothing more than mild complaint, but soon there is open talk of revolt, and even of calling a council to elect a new leader. Arthur’s followers are losing confidence in him, as he loses confidence in himself.

 

And the hunters are not succeeding, either in wiping out the wolves, or in driving them away. One evening they return empty-handed and stand in an uneasy huddle around the longhouse fire, instead of dispersing to their own huts.

Arthur looks sharply at them. ‘Well?’ he asks.

They shuffle their feet, and push one of their number forward to be spokesman. ‘We are too few,’ he says. ‘I think – we all think – we should send to Herward’s village, or to Dirk’s, to ask for more men to deal with this menace, as soon as the snow thaws.’

‘We can’t go on losing our animals at this rate,’ another man says, and they all murmur and nod in agreement.

‘And those beasts are growing bolder, too,’ says the spokesman. ‘They know we’re no match for them. It’ll be a horse next.’

‘Aye, or another child,’ someone says.

 

Arthur’s face blanches.

 

There is an awkward silence.

 

‘You must do what you think best,’ Arthur says in a tight, clipped voice. He pushes back his chair, strides into the bedchamber and slams the door behind him.

 

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Kai says, and gets to his feet.

Llud lays a hand on his arm. ‘Leave him, Kai. It will do no good. The gods know I’ve tried –’

But Kai shakes him off. ‘Get rid of this lot,’ he mutters. ‘I don’t care how.’ And he follows Arthur into the sleeping place.

 

Arthur is lying on his bed, face down.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, hiding in here?’ Kai shouts.

Arthur stirs, and says faintly: ‘I failed him …’

His shoulders heave with dry sobs.

But Kai is beyond compassion. He shakes Arthur roughly. ‘Is that reason to fail all your people too?’

Arthur goes very still. ‘And just what do you mean by that?’

 

His taut, level voice is a warning sign that Kai chooses not to heed, choked as he is with anger and frustration.

‘Arthur, every day that you don’t lead them – every day that you show weakness – on every one of those days, you are failing them. You have to face up to this, or you will lose them altogether.’

 

Arthur sits up, and rounds on him. ‘What do you care?’ he snaps. ‘All YOU want is –’ He checks himself; draws a sharp breath.

‘What?’ Kai says, very quietly, although he knows what Arthur is thinking, and it tears at his very soul.

Arthur looks at the wall behind Kai’s head. ‘He died in my arms, Kai. He died calling for a comfort I could not bring him.’ His gaze fixes on Kai, but there is no warmth in his eyes. ‘And when I returned, all _you_ could think about was your own lust.’

‘Love,’ Kai says, wondering how it is still possible to speak after suffering such an injury. ‘Not lust. Love. But you were too blind to see the difference, too proud to accept the help I was offering.’ Tears rise up and choke him. ‘Or maybe just too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Well, you’re on your own now. Just as I am.’

 

He sniffs, draws his sleeve across his wet face, and heads for the door.

 

‘Kai.’

 

Despite himself, Kai turns back on the threshold.

 

‘Help me.’ Arthur is looking at him as a drowning man might look at a ship that is passing by out of reach.

Kai shakes his head. ‘You don’t want my help.’

‘What can I say?’ Arthur leans back against the wall, and closes his eyes. ‘Please, Kai. I’m sorry, I was wrong, and now you hurt, and I hurt, and I don’t know what to do.’

 

Slowly, Kai limps back across the room; sits down on the stool by the bed.

 

‘I promised him his mother would come,’ Arthur whispers. ‘But his last word to me was, “Liar”.’

‘It was not your fault,’ Kai tells him. ‘Nor his, nor anybody’s. Not even the wolves’.’

Arthur heaves a huge sigh. ‘Wild beasts. No one can control them.’

‘No,’ Kai says. ‘But that does not mean we should not try.’

 

Arthur opens his eyes; and now there is hope in them at last. He reaches out his hand, and Kai takes it, touching Arthur – really touching him – for the first time in two moons: stroking his right wrist with two fingers.

 

Arthur makes a choking sound, and breaks into huge wracking sobs; he gets up and walks around the room, unable to be still.

 

When the first wave is over, Kai goes to him and holds him fast.

He struggles and lashes out, but Kai accepts the blows, and simply pulls him closer until Arthur sags against him, and cries as Kai has never heard him do before, his whole body shaken with his grief.

And when at last he is calm again, and he has wiped his face and done his best to dry his sodden hair, he looks up, wide-eyed, like a lost child.

 

Kai takes Arthur’s right hand and kisses the inside of his wrist again, and this time Arthur does not pull away. The skin there is cool and smooth; Kai can feel the pulse beating just below the skin as he brushes his lips over it.

Arthur shivers. ‘I was too late to save him,’ he says.

 

‘I know,’ Kai says, reaching out to draw him close again. ‘But you can still save me.’

 

‘Kai …’

Arthur leans into Kai’s shoulder for a moment; then forces himself to stand upright and step away. ‘No.’ He turns his back; bows his head. ‘No, I can’t. I don’t have anything left to give.’

‘Then take,’ Kai tells him. ‘Take what you need from me.’

‘I can’t,’ Arthur says again.

Kai’s heart is wrung; he will not – he cannot – give up now. He goes to Arthur and puts both arms round him. ‘Then let me give it to you. Whatever it is that will make you whole again. My love, my life – anything.’

He buries his face in Arthur’s hair, breathing him in; offering the simple comfort of his presence, his loyalty and belief, in hopes that Arthur will accept them.

 

‘I broke my word,’ Arthur says. ‘And now …’

Kai holds him tightly. ‘And now you think it’s not worth anything, and neither are you.’

He feels Arthur nod miserably.

Kai whispers to him, fierce with love and anguish: ‘It’s not true. You are worth everything to me. You’re my leader – my heart – my life …’

Arthur stands, stiff and uncertain in Kai’s embrace; then he stirs; heaves a huge sigh and says, ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘And I you,’ Kai says, stroking Arthur’s back. ‘I thought you might shut me out for ever.’

‘I am not strong enough,’ Arthur says.

 

Kai takes Arthur’s face between his hands, and looks into his troubled eyes. ‘Arthur, you and I … what we are to each other … do you see this as a weakness? Is that what you’re afraid of?’

‘No,’ Arthur says, pulling Kai’s hands gently away. ‘Not you, Kai. Never. But I am afraid. Afraid to wield the power I hold, lest I fail my people again. And yet I fear to hand that power to others. They may fail also. And if I am not their leader, then what am I?’

 

‘Beautiful,’ Kai says, before he can stop himself.

 

‘Be serious.’ Arthur bites his lip.

‘I am,’ Kai replies. He draws a deep breath. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘Of course,’ Arthur says. ‘Why?’

Kai puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘Then trust me now. Let me be the leader. Just in this room and for this night. And I will show you what you are.’

Arthur frowns; turns away. ‘Kai, you don’t understand.’

‘I do.’

Arthur shakes his head.

 

‘You are in a high place,’ Kai says. ‘Bearing a heavy load for the sake of others. You feel your feet slipping from under you, you’re swaying and afraid to fall, it takes all your strength just to stay there. There is a refuge – a green valley, where no wolves come. Where you can lay down your burden and be your own self for a while – but everyone is watching you, and your pride will not let you seek that refuge. And when at last the sun goes down and the darkness hides you from their eyes, you cannot see your way there. That’s when you need me to help you. Set aside your pride, hold out your hand to me. No-one can see us.’

 

Arthur looks round. There are tears in his eyes again, and he’s gazing at Kai in longing; as though he can see that green valley spread out before his feet.

‘Show me, Kai,’ he says; and slowly – very slowly – he stretches out his hand. 

Kai takes it; kisses Arthur’s fingertips. ‘Come, then,’ he tells him, and leads him back to the bed, walking as carefully as though they really were in that high place and in danger of falling.

Arthur sinks down on the edge of the bed and bows his head to his knees. Kai kneels before him and puts his hands lightly on Arthur’s shoulders, asking nothing more than to be permitted to stay...

 

After a little while Arthur looks up, as though seeking guidance.

‘Let us lie here together,’ Kai says.

Arthur takes his hand, and moves over, leaving space. Kai climbs up and lies beside him. 

 

Arthur’s breathing is fast and shallow; his fingers are cold as they curl themselves around Kai’s, and he shivers. Kai presses himself close, offering the warmth of his own body, careful to hold his own hardness away from Arthur’s flank. Gradually Arthur’s tension eases as his fears and doubts are soothed.

 

Kai runs his fingers along the graceful line of Arthur’s collarbone, inside the neck of his tunic. Just the feel of Arthur’s skin under his touch is enough to set him on fire. He longs to fall on Arthur, cover him with fierce kisses, devour him with his mouth and his hands and his body until this ravenous passion is sated; but this is not the time. Arthur is not strong enough. Kai resolutely fights down the nagging doubt in his mind that is telling him that Arthur may never be strong enough again.

 

‘Please, Kai,’ Arthur whispers. He sounds remote, distant; he must be exhausted. ‘Touch me. I’m so cold.’

So Kai begins to touch him, reclaiming Arthur’s beloved body, rediscovering the lines and planes of his ribs and chest and throat, feeling Arthur quiver beneath his fingertips, alive and miraculous.

‘That’s better,’ Kai murmurs, and rests his cheek against Arthur’s neck, drinking in his familiar scent. Then he lifts himself on an elbow; brushes his lips over Arthur’s brow and eyelids and cheekbones.

 

Arthur reaches up and runs his fingers through Kai’s hair as he always used to do, before – it seems such a long time ago. He pulls Kai’s head down towards him. Their lips meet with a shock of recognition, and now it is Kai who is shivering; it is all he can do to return the kiss, and not to break away and hide his face. He was so afraid that Arthur would not return to him; he longs to confide in him, to seek comfort, but he cannot burden Arthur with his own needs and fears: not now.

 

And he is hard, so hard it hurts.

 

He tries to put that out of his mind, to think only of Arthur; of Arthur’s mouth, soft and hesitant beneath his own, needing reassurance and security. He can feel Arthur’s anxiety; at any moment this fragile, beautiful connection may break. Kai cannot let that happen.

 

And when Arthur finally starts to believe, to let go, to trust him: when Arthur clasps his hands behind Kai’s neck and starts to kiss him as though he means it, then Kai is filled with joy and pride.

 

No-one else can do this for Arthur. This is the purpose of Kai’s life, and he doesn’t care what it costs him.

 

Arthur’s fingers are still chilly. Kai takes one of Arthur’s hands between both of his own. ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘You’re freezing, and so am I. Let’s get under these blankets and get properly warm.’ And he starts to unfasten his own clothing and struggle out of it.

Arthur hesitates only a moment before doing the same.

 

They lie side by side for a while, their fingers entwined, and then Kai takes courage; raises himself on one elbow, and kisses Arthur again.

Their mouths lock together, communicating without words, Kai feeling what Arthur wants and giving it to him. Moving his hand slowly, he strokes down Arthur’s belly and into his groin.

 

Arthur must surely be hard by now.

 

He hesitates to go further, to touch Arthur there; but when he does, Arthur makes no protest. Kai loses himself for a while in the enjoyment of soft hair, softer skin, damp heat, springy hardness.

And perhaps …

 

Kai takes a deep, steadying breath, and slides a hand down behind Arthur’s balls, caressing the ridge of taut flesh there.

Arthur tenses, and Kai stills the movement of his fingers; then Arthur breathes out a long sigh, and presses against Kai’s hand in mute acceptance.

 

‘Tell me if I should stop,’ Kai says.

Arthur shakes his head and kisses him again, his tongue caressing inside Kai’s lips. Then he bends one knee up, and spreads himself wider.

Kai hesitates, his fingertips near Arthur’s cleft, longing to take possession.

 

‘Go on,’ Arthur whispers. ‘Please.’

 

‘Are you sure?’ Kai asks.

For answer, Arthur takes Kai’s hand and places it lower, over his entrance; then covers it with his own.

 

Kai’s heart is pounding, and he is suddenly nervous. Arthur has never let Kai take him before, or even touch him there; but now he is lying back, spreading himself in surrender, waiting ...

 

The curves of Arthur’s arse are smooth and firm; his balls ripple and tighten, brushing against Kai’s wrist, as Kai’s fingers track lightly across the puckered skin of his ring.

Kai looks into Arthur’s eyes, seeing them widen and darken as Kai explores further, pressing and kneading – and then Arthur catches his breath and bites his lip as Kai thrusts just a little too far, too eagerly.

 

‘Kai –’

‘Sorry,’ Kai says, withdrawing his hand. A flush comes to his face. 

‘I’m not hurt,’ Arthur says. ‘It’s just… new, that’s all.’

But now his eyes are tight shut and his breathing harsh and ragged. Perhaps he is afraid. Perhaps this was not the right thing to do.

But he has not told Kai to stop.

 

‘Let me get something to help,’ Kai says, and climbs out of Arthur’s bed to fetch the bowl of grease from beneath his own.

 

Patiently and carefully, he begins again, just touching at first, his slick fingers gliding easily across Arthur’s skin; then he presses into him, feeling the tight muscle clench and shudder as one fingertip gains entry.

Arthur gives a little moan of pleasure, and rolls his hips.

‘Is that better?’ Kai asks.

‘Much better.’ Arthur smiles, and opens his eyes.

Kai leans forward to kiss him, and slides his finger further in. He can feel Arthur’s pulse throbbing, deep inside.

‘Oh.’ Arthur cannot keep silent. ‘ _Oh._ ’ He arches his back; draws up one knee to open himself wider.

 

Soon Kai is able to slide his middle finger in beside the first, and Arthur softens around him, relaxed and trusting.

He looks up at Kai. ‘I think …’ he says, ‘I think it’s time. How do we…?’

Kai takes his hand gently away, and moves to roll Arthur onto his side, and then onto his front. ‘From behind would be easiest,’ he says, reaching under Arthur’s belly.

 

Then Arthur lifts himself onto his hands and knees and Kai can’t get his breath. He has to put a hand on himself: the sight of Arthur like that ...

 

Arthur is looking up over his shoulder, a worried frown creasing his forehead. ‘You’ll have to be patient with me, Kai. I’ve never done this before. I may not be able to –’

‘It’s all right,’ Kai says, leaning down to stroke his cheek. ‘You’re Arthur. You’re beautiful. And for me, you don’t need to be anything else.’

His love for Arthur wells up afresh and almost chokes him; he can feel the tears building into a solid knot in his chest, but he fights them down. Now, this moment, Arthur needs him, and Kai must not fail.

And oh, Arthur is beautiful, kneeling there waiting. It is all Kai can do not to fall on him and tear him apart as he enters him.

 

Arthur rests his head on his forearms and takes a long, shaky breath as Kai presses slowly into him.

 

Kai knows how this feels: the anxiety, the ache, the strangeness. He tries his best to make it easy for Arthur, being as gentle and as patient as he knows how.

Arthur moans in longing, and thrusts against Kai. His body feels at once familiar and completely new: it seems so long since they last lay together. Kai wonders whether Arthur has even laid a hand on himself in all that time; his frustration must be so much deeper, the sensations even more overwhelming.

 

Kai murmurs words of love as he slowly works his way in.

‘I can’t tell you how good that feels,’ Arthur says, his voice muffled.

‘You don’t need to,’ Kai replies.

 

Kai props himself on one arm; strokes Arthur’s back in reassurance as Arthur shudders and bucks beneath him.

He tries to hold back, but he can’t help pushing deeper in as Arthur moves against him; and suddenly he touches that deep spot wherein lies ecstasy, and Arthur moans and then cries out, ‘Oh, God. Oh, God. I can’t …’ 

 

Kai’s heart goes cold within him. Arthur is afraid, or perhaps Kai has hurt him. They should stop –

 

Arthur is frantic, clutching at himself with one hand, fighting the inevitable. ‘No … Oh, no …’

 

And even as Kai tries to withdraw, Arthur throws back his head and screams Kai’s name, and then he’s coming, keening and sobbing in Kai’s grip.

 

Kai slides carefully out of him, reaches down to take Arthur’s prick in hand and help him through it.

 

At last Arthur lies limp and exhausted. Kai pulls him closer.

‘Did I hurt you?’ he asks.

‘No,’ Arthur says, his voice thin and tremulous. ‘But … I thought I knew what was going to happen, until it did, and then it was … I didn’t expect it to be like that.’

 

‘I know,’ Kai says, stroking the damp hair back from Arthur’s forehead. ‘The first time, it’s … well, you saw how I was.’

Arthur is still trembling in his arms, utterly spent. ‘Shhh,’ Kai murmurs. ‘It’s all right. It’s been a long time, that’s all.’

 

A long time for him, too. Kai’s body is raw with disappointment; his balls ache with need, and his prick is rigid and wet, but he can ask no more of Arthur tonight.

He holds Arthur close and does his best to comfort him.

 

At length, Arthur stops shivering, gets stiffly out of bed and cleans himself. Without a word he passes Kai the cloth, then goes to the pail in the corner.

Kai has to go there too; then he looks at Arthur, now lying quiet beneath the blankets, and turns towards his own cold bed.

Arthur stirs sleepily. ‘Kai?’

‘It’s all right,’ Kai says. ‘You get some sleep now. The gods know you need it. There’ll be time enough to talk tomorrow.’

 

Arthur is asleep almost at once; but Kai feels as though he will never be able to sleep again. It is not just the pain in his twisted ankle that keeps him wakeful. Guilt and sorrow and an aching need are gnawing at him. He had thought that he was doing the right thing, but Arthur was not ready for this. And now Kai is terribly afraid that in his arrogance he has just done more damage to his brother’s already fragile heart.

 

Lying alone, face down, he at last begins to weep, slow bitter tears that will not stop, not even when he takes himself in hand, hoping to ease the nagging tension in his prick and get some sleep. He rolls onto his side and works himself; tries to lose himself in the sensation, to avoid thinking.

 

A rustle of straw on the floor; a warm body, pressed against his back.

 

‘What’s wrong?’ Arthur’s breath tickles his ear; Arthur’s hands run down his spine and cup his buttocks. 

‘Nothing,’ Kai growls, embarrassed.

‘It didn’t sound like nothing,’ Arthur says, sliding a hand over Kai’s ribs and stroking his belly.

Kai sighs. ‘Go back to bed. I’m all right. It’s just –’

Arthur feels where Kai’s hand is; moans in sympathy. ‘I’m sorry, Kai. I didn’t think. You wanted it so badly, too …’

Kai shakes his head. ‘I wanted you.’

‘You denied yourself, to take care of me,’ Arthur says. ‘And you would do the same again.’

‘Every time,’ Kai says. He turns to face Arthur. ‘Every time, if that is what you need.’

Arthur kisses him. ‘You have already given me what I need. You have shown me the way to that green valley. And next time, I know we will go there together. That is enough to save me.’

 

His hand curls around Kai’s hardness. Kai buries his face in the sweet curve of Arthur’s shoulder, and breathes deeply.

 

‘So … did I show you what you are?’ he asks, arching his back as Arthur’s fingers caress him.

Arthur chuckles softly: a sound Kai hasn’t heard in far too long. ‘You certainly did,’ he says. ‘An idiot, for one thing …’

‘Be serious,’ Kai says.

‘I am,’ Arthur replies. He looks into Kai’s eyes with such love that it makes Kai breathless.

 

‘You showed me what you are, too,’ Arthur says. ‘Not a weakness, Kai. You are my source of strength.’

 

Kai can’t speak.

 

‘Now,’ Arthur says. His voice is very serious, but his eyes are smiling. ‘I have everything I need. But what about _you_?’

 

…

 

Next morning Arthur wakens at first light, unwraps himself from Kai, and flings aside the sheepskin covers. Retrieving his scattered clothing from around the bedroom, he dresses himself briskly, then bustles into the hall.

 

Kai can hear him clattering around, reviving the fire, pouring water; there is a creak as he opens the big doors to check on the weather, and he calls a cheery, ‘Good morning’ to the doorwarden.

 

Then he is back, with bread and honey and mead, which he sets down beside the bed before leaning over to kiss Kai joyously on the lips.

 

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ he says.

‘Why, where are you going?’ Kai asks.

Arthur grins. ‘As you so rightly reminded me last night, I’ve got work to do.’

He takes Cerdig’s dagger from its resting place on the table and sticks it in his belt.

‘I wonder how good the Saxons are at hunting wolves,’ he says. ‘This foul weather will break soon, and then I shall go to Cerdig and ask him. Perhaps if we work together, all of our animals will be in less danger next winter. And maybe, God willing, all of our people too.’

 

He comes back for one more kiss. ‘Meanwhile, you were right – we have to keep trying on our own account. I’m going out with the hunting party today. To see if we can’t come up with some cleverer strategy. I wonder where Llud’s got to?’

And then he is gone. Kai reaches for the mead cup, and heaves a sigh of relief.

 

The Celts have their Arthur back.

 

The leader who will fight to protect his people as long as there is breath in his body.

 

As long at there is breath in his own, Kai will be there to fight alongside him. And one day, they will do more than talk of peace with their enemies: they will achieve it.

 

Kai is certain now.

 

Together, they can do anything.


End file.
